


N0T1ME

by lemonhead



Series: N0T1ME [1]
Category: Back to the Future
Genre: 1980s, 2010s, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Comedy, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Multi, Time Travel, science-fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonhead/pseuds/lemonhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Brown, Doc's granddaughter and Jules' daughter, leads an average life in 2016. That is, she does until she is thrown thirty years into the past by her father's replication of her grandfather's greatest inventions; The flux capacitor and the time machine. When the prototype fails, she'll need Doc to fix it. Her and Marty's problem? Doc hasn't been spotted since he departed from 1985.</p>
            </blockquote>





	N0T1ME

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what I've been up to for the past few months. Or, at least one of the things, anyway. I originally posted this on FF, but I thought I should post it here as well, because why not? The version on FF separates this chapter into two chapters, but I decided to combine them both here since they're pretty short in my opinion.
> 
> Also, I apologize for there being so much talking. Emma's quiet-ish around her friends who talk a lot, and then she never shuts up when she's around anybody else. I think that'll change once she gets thrown into a situation she's not prepared to deal with and she knows she's out of her element.

It was unusually bright and sunny for a fall morning at Hill Valley High School. Even in temperate California, there was no doubt in anyone's minds that it would be yet another dry winter, and their drought situation wouldn't be ended anytime soon. Kids were excitedly talking about their plans for Thanksgiving on the last Friday before break. A group of four teenage girls sat together against a wall. A heavy-set girl asked one of the others, "What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Em?"

A bookish teen girl, the one referred to as Em, glanced up from her statistics textbook, "I don't know yet. We were going to try to have the whole family together for dinner, but I don't know if anybody's going to be able to make it. Even my dad said he might be busy at the Institute," she said. "What about you, Steph?"

Stephanie shook her head. "My mom's flying me and my brothers out to some big family reunion in North Carolina. We're leaving tonight and we won't be back until break is over."

"Oh. I guess there go any plans of hanging out," she said.

"Yeah, sorry. But I'll have my phone and my laptop, so maybe we can video chat?" Stephanie said optimistically. "And hey, at least you'll still have Cindy and Marlene to hang out with."

The girl addressed as Cindy shook her head and spoke without looking up from her phone. "Uh-uh, not me. I'm going down to LA this weekend, and then way the hell up to Oregon until next Friday, and I'm pretty sure after all that driving all I'm gonna do Saturday and Sunday is sleep. Maybe even Monday. Who knows? Not like this school will miss me, anyway."

Emma looked to the last girl in the group. "Marlene?"

"You're always welcome at our house, I guess," she shrugged. "Grandma Lorraine loves having visitors for Thanksgiving, and she adores you. I think the whole family does, actually." she added.

Emma laughed, "Everybody except your brother." She looked down at her homework again, and after writing for another few seconds, closed the textbook and stacked her notebook on top of it. "I still don't know what his problem is."

"Junior's just bad at talking to girls, is all. He doesn't mean anything by it," Marlene said.

"He's just bad at talking in general," Stephanie replied.

"Maybe Emma's just bad at talking to boys."

"They're both terrible at talking to each other. That's why they can't get along!" Cindy said.

"That's at least one thing they have in common."

Stephanie stretched her arms up, groaning as she did, then asking, "You and Junior are twins, right? How come you're so much cooler than him?"

"Well, the obvious answer is that girls are cooler than boys. At least on a personal level. I don't have any scientific data to back it up generally," Emma laughed.

"How does that apply to boys who became girls?" Cindy asked.

"Oh my God, don't be an ass, Cin," warned Marlene.

"What? I'm seriously asking." Cindy replied innocently.

"Ask Emma, "Steph retorted. "Isn't it always the smart ones who can't comprehend gender?"

"Not ALWAYS. Just ones who are always convinced that they're right no matter what. Which, admittedly, is most of them." Emma answered. "But I was raised better than that. I do want to know why he hates me, though..."

"Why don't you just ask him?"

"Griff is over there."

"So?"

"As much as I think Junior hates me, I think Griff's disdain toward me rivals his tenfold." She winced, "I'm not getting near him until I have a deathwish."

"Didn't you insult his hat once? Maybe that's why he hates you."

"I did not!" Emma exclaimed, adding more calmly, "I simply said that I didn't understand the snapback trend... While I was in his vicinity... By accident. And I don't get why he went with a bright orange hat, of all things."

"Haven't you noticed?" Cindy laughed, "He's an attention-seeker. And nothing says "pay attention to me!" like orange clothes."

"Yeah, but you gotta admit, he looks better in that kind of hat that most of the jerks who wear them.," Stephanie pointed out.

"No kidding. Have you guys seen Griff lately? I mean, the hat, the bro-tank that he basically slit all the way down the side, and baggy jeans? What is he trying to prove, exactly?"

"How to look like a homeless person in the year 2015."

"Why does Marty Jr. hang out with him and his gang?"

"He's bad news. No wonder Em doesn't like him."

Emma sighed, "I don't think he 'hangs out' with Griff by choice. Even then, that's only pat of why I don't like him. You're speculating based off of maybe two accurate observations I've made in the past... Can we just..." she choked, "Can we change the subject, please?"

"Fine." Stephanie said, just as the bell rang to call everyone to class. She groaned, "Uuuugh, I am not looking forward to Civics right now."

"See, I told you, you guys should've done AP so we could be in Stat together," Emma teased, gathering her books and standing up as the other girls sluggishly got to their feet. "Or at the very least, Trig."

They walked into the school building together. "But that would've taken so much extra work," Marlene whined.

"Yeah, no offense, Em. But it's a miracle that me and Marlene ever even made it into Pre-Calc," Stephanie said.

Emma's eyes lit up as she remembered the Brown family motto while she was opening her locker. "Well, I think..." she trailed off as she stuck her textbook and notebook back inside and pulled out a large binder with the word "STAT" written on it in marker, then turned to face her friends again. "It's like my dad and grandpa always say, 'if you put your mind to it-'"

"-You can accomplish anything," Marlene rolled her eyes as she closed Emma's locker for her. "Yeah, yeah... MY dad always says that too."

"Well, I gotta go to class. Later, bitches!" Cindy chirped, disappearing into her English classroom.

"See ya, Cin," Emma said. From outside, the other three girls could faintly hear Cindy's teacher kindly ask her to stop the casual swearing, followed by Cindy shouting something along the lines of "eat my shorts."

"Where's your mathy-whatsis class, again?" Stephanie asked.

"Stat," said Emma, "It's...way over on the other side of the building."

"Well, ours is right here, so... Bye!" said Steph, opening the door to their drama classroom and rushing inside.

"Thanks a lot, guys," Emma muttered to herself as her friends darted away. She looked back as she rounded the corner, causing her to crash into an unsuspecting student and drop her binder on impact.

"Hey, watch it!" Marty Jr. spat.

"Sorry, I-Junior..?" she asked, stunned. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm going to class like everybody else." he answered as he got to his feet and adjusted his backpack and his pants.

"That's not what-I mean, I walk this way every day and I've never, ever seen you over here before, " she explained.

"That's 'cause I never, ever go this way," he added, "Except today."

"Why?"

"Because," he started, "I'm late and I don't want to get caught by Griff or busted by Strick-"

"-Busted by who?" As if on cue, the principal appeared behind them, grabbing their backpacks so they couldn't bolt off. His secretary was with him, but she remained silent as she flipped to the back of her clipboard to write up Emma and Junior's detention slips. "A feat that would be more easily attainable if you took the easy way out and just didn't bother showing up... Well, look who it is, Miss Schafer. Emma Lise Brown and Martin Seamus McFly Jr. Now, that's a tardy slip and detention for both of you to serve in my office this afternoon." Gerald Strickland Jr. was every bit the disciplinarian that his grandfather had been. For well over fifty years the Strickland family had kept Hill Valley High from descending into what they had to assume was chaos caused by slackers and hooligans.

"What?! But-but it's only my first offense! You can't do this!" Emma cried. Junior took his citation without hesitation or a word.

"Oh, yes I can, Miss Brown. Our new policy states that any student caught skipping class will be subject to a citation requiring them to serve detention. I'll keep you here all night if I have to."

"Sir, we can't keep them past five-thirty on the grounds of extra-curricular activity," his secretary said quietly, adding as softly as possible, "...and the staff party tonight."

"I will keep your here until five-thirty!" He wagged an authoritative finger at them. "Now get to class, both of you. I'll see you this afternoon."

Emma huffed as she took the citation the secretary had written up. She had never been in trouble like that before, and she felt sick to her stomach as she finally arrived to statistics. She was five minutes late, which resulted in another tardy slip from her teacher.

* * *

Detention that afternoon dragged on for what seemed like ages to Emma. She had contemplated sneaking away amid the crowd of her peers after dismissal at three, hoping to avoid Principal Strickland completely, but she knew in the end it would just lead to getting into more trouble and she'd likely get caught anyway. Instead, she waited patiently outside the study hall classroom she'd been told to report to for Principal Strickland and her fellow detainee to arrive.

He sat them down in the room, told them they were to sit quietly the entire time, and they weren't allowed to work on homework or talk to each other. _Well, I can handle one of those things,_ Emma thought. Ultimately, she decided listening to everything that Strickland said was dumb, and soon she was up and pacing by her desk, muttering about how unfair this whole situation was.

"I thought you liked empty classrooms," Junior teased.

Emma glared at him, "You don't get to talk to me. It's your fault I'm even here, anyway."

"Whatever," he shrugged her off, putting his headphones on as he pulled out his phone, completely content to ignore her. Emma tried texting her friends, but the only response she got was from Marlene, who said that she couldn't talk because Grandma Lorraine and Grandpa George had just arrived and she was supposed to be grounded from using the phone, the result of an incident where she had mouthed off to her dad while in the middle of a phone conversation.

Their disciplinarian was a full half an hour late to excuse them. Regulation stated that all after-school activities were supposed to be dismissed at five-thirty, but he'd kept them until six. Supposedly he'd said the clock in his office had been broken, but the kids trusted this about as far as they could throw it. Both were convinced that he just wanted to see them suffer a while longer and potentially get them in more trouble at home for arriving home late. Which would have worked if either teen's parents had cared as much about punctuality as the school district did.

When she got home it was fully dark, and her father had forgotten to leave the porch light and the thumb plate lock light on. She entered the house trying to make as much noise as possible to snap her father out of being oblivious to everything except the experiment he was working on in his private study.

The Brown family farmhouse had been built in 1987 after Doc had realized that part-time residence in both the past and the present wasn't going to work efficiently for their kids. At Marty's urging, he'd tried to have the whole family live in the garage he used as both a lab and living space, but they quickly found that this was no place to raise a family, so he built a new house on a large lot he'd been able to purchase after selling his garage to the city, which wanted to put in a larger parking lot for the garage's neighboring Burger King.

"Hey Dad, I'm home. Thanks for leaving the light on and the door unlocked." she said sarcastically.

"You're welcome, sweetie!" Jules shouted from his study, completely ignoring her sarcasm. Emma shook her head as she set her bag and books down on the dining room table. She had just made herself comfortable in the living room by flopping down on the couch when her father came in. "You're home late this evening," he said.

She threw her head back against the top of the couch and sighed. "I know, I got in trouble."

"You got in trouble?" Jules asked incredulously, "Whatever for?"

"Junior made me late to class."

"How so?" He sat next to her on the couch. "You two weren't kissing in the halls or anything to that nature, were you?"

"What? No!"

"It was a simple inquiry. In my observations, teenagers are prone to acting on impulse from certain hormonal changes that can lead to-"

"-No. No no no," she waved her hands from side to side as she sat up in her seat, frantic to stop an embarrassing talk dead in its tracks. "We're not having this conversation right now, Dad... Seriously, no... Aren't you going to say anything?"

"About what?"

"About me getting detention?" she asked, "I besmirched my academic record today," she stood up and walked back to the table where she'd left her belongings.

Jules sighed, knowing it was well-pointless to argue with his daughter when she was in a mood like this, but he was determined to get her to lighten up by even a minute amount. "Emma, one detention isn't the end of the world."

"It is for me," she said flatly, shrugging her shoulders. "What prestigious college is going to want a student with a 4.5 GPA and a perfect attendance record who had to serve... a detention?" she phrased the question as an impressive brag until she had to mention the infamous mark on her permanent record, at which point her voice was filled with disgust. "I'm done for."

"I'm sure getting one detention isn't going to impact your applications to that extreme."

"Have you ever been in detention?"

Jules bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Oh, so many times."

"What?!"

"Verne and I were quite the prankster duo in school," he started, "We got in more than enough trouble together, but it didn't stop us from becoming successful. My brother has his profession down in Los Angeles, developing video games well-loved by the masses. And I've got my nationally-acclaimed research continuing my father's work at the Institute."

"But I'm disadvantaged far more than you and Uncle Verne were." Emma argued, "I'll have to work twice as hard as any male colleague I'm up against no matter what school I go to."

Jules stood up and joined his daughter at the dining table as she unintentionally paced beside it. "Yes, I'm aware of the existence of misogyny in the scientific community, Emma. But I'm afraid you're still overreacting." Of course, Emma thought as she shook her head and looked at the floor, having stopped moving long enough to realize how worked up she'd made herself. Jules stood and watched her from by the junction between the table and their kitchen's island counter. "You're an exceptionally bright young woman with a lot to offer in any field," he continued, approaching and hunching over his tall form to meet her much smaller frame at eye-level. "And nothing is going to detract from that unless you let it," he finished, placing a hand on her shoulder in consolation.

"Thanks, Dad..." she smiled. Her mind drifted back to her father's work earlier. The project that had distracted him from everything else that needed to be done, she presumed, once he had brought it home from work that afternoon. "What are you doing in the workshop?"

"It's, er-nothing," Jules lied, "Something for work that just so happens to be classified."

"Oh, okay..." she said in a dejected response before taking a guess at why the mystery object had to be so important. "So, new invention?"

"In a manner of speaking," he stated. "Well, it's more like a "refurbished" project. I'll... I'll tell you about it when it's closer to completion, I promise."

"I'm gonna hold you to that, you know," she said, wagging her phone at him. She trudged up the stairs to her room, but halfway through turned and went back down halfway to ask what they were having for dinner that night.


End file.
